It’s a Monday evening when Juju Bae and I sit in front of our computer screens to chat about her debut book, The Book of Juju: Africana Spirituality for Healing, Liberation, and Self-Discovery. The text is a work of creative nonfiction that combines memoir, history, and guided prompts for readers hoping to begin (or strengthen) their practices of Africana religious and spiritual traditions. The Baltimore-born spiritualist recently moved to New York and tells me she spent most of her day in a studio, recording the audiobook for The Book of Juju.
As a contemporary guide to Africana ancestral veneration, The Book of Juju is a creative work about utilizing the tools of Africana traditions for healing. Juju’s past study of psychology, Black history, and culture merge with her personal experiences of grief, divination, and community work to provide a refreshing new release. Listeners to her “A Little Juju” podcast and new fans alike will enjoy the subjects explored.
As a contemporary guide to Africana ancestral veneration, The Book of Juju is a creative work about utilizing the tools of Africana traditions for healing. Juju’s past study of psychology, Black history, and culture merge with her personal experiences of grief, divination, and community work to provide a refreshing new release. Listeners to her “A Little Juju” podcast and new fans alike will enjoy the subjects explored.
As we ease into our hour together, a smile dances across her face. Her excitement about connecting with readers, even after a long day, is resonant while discussing her upcoming book tour launching this week. Despite moving up the coast, she is committed to kicking off her first event in Baltimore, “The City That Reads,” at Greedy Reads in Remington. As the sun sets on the East Coast and the sky inches toward indigo, our conversation about her work, hometown, and hopes for readers deepens.
Bry Reed: Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Putting a debut book out is no small feat.
Juju: It’s not [laughs]. Thank you so much!
BR: How do you feel as a debut writer as publication day for your debut approaches?
JB: I still feel like my feet are not on the ground yet. I’m still floating. There’s so much to do that … in some ways, my mind isn’t even on the book. It’s on the other things you have to do: the touring, the sharing it. So I feel like I’m still in the process of doing work around the book. I think when it’s actually out, then I’ll feel different. It’s so funny, I was talking to a mentor recently and she told me, “remind yourself that the greats, like Zora Neale Hurston, never had to post on social media — of course, it didn’t exist because it was a different time — but give yourself grace to put your words out into the world and not give yourself all this other labor.” I can find the balance in between that.
BR: As you balance those choices, is it significant for you that your first event for the book will be in your hometown of Baltimore?
JB: That was necessary for me. I always like to start off anything meaningful that I’m doing at my home base. Obviously, it’s where my friends are, where my family is, but it’s [also] where I was born. It is the opening piece of The Book of Juju itself. It starts off in Baltimore with my experience as a Catholic, Baltimore child. So to start off my tour being around some of the people who influenced me to write the book is deeply necessary. It couldn’t be any other way. It has to be in my city.
BR: What inspires that choice?
JB: Well, I love my city. I remember one time when I was still living in Baltimore, a couple years ago, a listener to the podcast said, “I love that you live here. Even with everything that you have going on, because it shows that you can be from — and a part of — this city and still have a good life.” I don’t live in the city anymore but I am still deeply connected to home because it is what propels me into all these spaces. If I forget my home then I forget my lineage and I can’t do that.
BR: The importance of lineage is one of the themes, and also motifs, that is recurring throughout The Book of Juju. Your book is an exciting blend of memoir, self-help, and spiritualism. As you were drafting this work, was it difficult to balance all these dimensions as a storyteller?
JB: Surprisingly, no. I didn’t want it to be a full-on memoir. I didn’t want it to be full-on history. I wanted it to be how I show up. I talk a lot about my own life because it informs who I am, but my own life is rooted in the history [of spiritualism]. It wasn’t as difficult as you might think.
BR: Are you happy with the balance in the final version?
JB: I’m in the process of recording the audiobook, so I’m in this process of reading the book a different way right now. And my answer today is that I wish there was more of the historical aspect and less about myself. I’m reckoning with what I wrote.
BR: There’s a difference between a writing process and an emotional process of preparing yourself for public reception of what you’ve written.
JB: Especially when your thoughts and views change from when you wrote that. There’s other nuances, and this book is an archive of where I was when I wrote it.
BR: What has been the role of the other hats that you wear in this text? You’re a podcaster, independent scholar, vocalist, and theater performer; what aspects of those other roles influenced this text?
JB: The podcast for sure. The podcast catapulted the book. A lot of the information in the book is information I’ve thought about, said, and discussed alongside other people in interviews from “A Little Juju Podcast.”
BR: Where do you situate Baltimore in the vast histories of Africana religious and spiritual traditions?
JB: Baltimore is a historic place. It is an old city. The energy is old. The spirits are old. With that eldership, and that connection to slavery, all of these ancestral histories connect to Black Baltimoreans and Baltimoreans in general. It’s such a city that people consider “haunted,” and that’s new-age language to say Baltimore is a place where spirits engage with the living. I would not be who I am today if I was not raised in a city that has that haunt!
“Baltimore is a historic place. It is an old city. The energy is old. The spirits are old. With that eldership, and that connection to slavery, all of these ancestral histories connect to Black Baltimoreans and Baltimoreans in general. It’s such a city that people consider “haunted,” and that’s new-age language to say Baltimore is a place where spirits engage with the living. I would not be who I am today if I was not raised in a city that has that haunt! “
Juju bae, podcaster, priestess, and author of the book of juju
BR: It wasn’t until recently that I learned Ouija boards were invented here.
JB: Sure were! I think [that place] is a 7-Eleven now in Mount Vernon. There’s the Catholicism of Baltimore. We’re a woo-woo city and people are talking about it, but not in a Black way. That’s where my curiosity is.
BR: How did other life experiences, in other Black cities, impact writing this book?
JB: Atlanta is where I first uncovered and questioned what it meant to be a Black human being. I moved to Atlanta when I was 18 and going to Spelman College. I was considering all these different aspects of who I am: my queerness, my political views. All that came into question. In Chicago, I literally dropped out of my doctoral program to make a commitment to ancestral work and healing. All these places educated and informed me in different ways. The concept of Juju and Juju Bae, that came from Chicago.
BR: You did all of this before even turning 30.
JB: [laughs] I did!
BR: Many Africana religious and spiritual traditions are closed practices. What choices did you make as a writer and practitioner to honor that distinction?
JB: This is something I’m thinking of constantly in my work (and other people’s work). In The Book of Juju, I focus on ancestors more than any other kind of tradition that I’m letting people into. Of course, I mention Hoodoo and the Orisa, but this text is about the ancestors. That is not closed. Can’t nobody connect to your ancestors more than you! Ancestors are accessible to everyone.
BR: You give strong declarative statements like “you are not forgotten” when speaking directly to the reader. Why are those declarative statements important for you to include?
JB: Because for myself, and other people that I know, those declarations are what people were seeking…. Those declarations are the words I needed to hear when no one got it. When I felt like I was strange or odd. I wasn’t weird and I wasn’t forgotten.
BR: As people of the African diaspora navigate imperialism, racism, and classism, where do you see the use of ancestor veneration?
JB: We don’t hear enough stories about us. Our ancestors are not considered spirits worthy of a story, a chapter, nothing. Even that [storytelling] shifts what we know about ourselves. Learning more about Africana spiritual cosmology means [learning] there are many Africana spirits that are lying dormant. I think learning more about them will do something. I don’t know what, but we need to get clearer on what we’re seeking in this lifetime.
BR: I personally put your book in conversation with earlier works like The Salt Eaters by Toni Cade Bambara and Jambalaya by Luisah Teish. What books and other works of art do you hold in conversation with your book?
JB: Ooooooh [pause], I’m thinking of Solange. A Seat at the Table. Her work feels very current but informed by ancestors. That’s what I want my work to feel like.
BR: Is there any extra advice you’d give to readers that you didn’t have the time to include?
JB: The relationship to your ancestors does and can change. It’s not going to look like it did a week ago or a year ago. We have to allow ourselves, and them, to change. To learn more. They are not perfect beings sent into our lives to be God. Yet they are still worthy of love, honor, and veneration…. And you may take your altar down! That’s okay and we will still grow throughout that process.
BR: What is your dream for readers to take away from this book?
JB: It’s that declaration about not feeling forgotten. It’s about not feeling that you were left by a person who passed away. To know that they were not left, that we were not left, that I was not left. It’s not to say we won’t grieve or feel pain, but to know that there is thousands of years of Indigenous knowledge to interact with what they left us. Whether that’s a story, a recipe, a dream, a smell. We still have them and what they gave us. I hope this supports people digging to find the gold that they left us.
The kick-off event for The Book of Juju will be held at Greedy Reads in Remington at 7 p.m. on Tuesday, June 18.
The post The Book of Juju: Juju Bae talks about her new book, Baltimore’s old spirits, and honoring the ancestors appeared first on Baltimore Beat.